


A Mandalorian Discount

by sevryx (Viridescent_Espionage)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alcohol/Aphrodisiacs, Mechanic reader, Oneshot, PWP, Reader-Insert, mentioned backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridescent_Espionage/pseuds/sevryx
Summary: The sun was setting again when you had completed all external repairs. You were currently inside the ship, fixing wiring issues you were sure could be finished within the next few minutes. This is why you had shoved yourself halfway into a small opening in the ship, the panel pulled aside and at your feet with your headlamp illuminating the crevice. Why the wiring was so far into the ship wall, you didn’t understand, and didn’t have the energy to question. You were simply relieved that you were small enough to fit into the opening.That was, until you couldn’t get out.You cursed and spat enough words to make a mercenary blush, kicking at the wall for what was at least a few embarrassing moments before stopping to catch your breath.This evening couldn’t get any worse.“You’re supposed to fix my ship, not dent it.”It could get worse, apparently. And it did.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 454





	A Mandalorian Discount

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Another Mandalorian/Reader! Please feel free to leave any comments and/or suggestions, and if you're on Tumblr, to check out my writing blog! (@sevryx) Thanks for reading! :D

Sand and hot air left a dry taste in your mouth. The sky was vibrant orange, but you felt nothing for the sunset any more.

You had just now come back from the cantina, considering that no customers visiting your shop all day, and attempted to drown your sorrows in the single glass that you could afford to purchase without threatening your month’s budget. It wasn’t that you envied those men and women passing through in their extravagant armor with their big guns, purchasing the most expensive drinks and chasing after every little fancy they wished in their few days on Tatooine. They could afford to do so – to bet on pod races, get in a few fights, down a few glasses of liquid courage and spend a few nights with a village member who they would promise to revisit, only to never come again. There was a special drink for that, you remembered with a soft laugh. Many a night, unaware merchants and soldiers and bounty hunters came through hoping to score an eventful evening, confiding in the bartender simply to be served the solution to their problems in the form of a glass of purple concentrate, ripe with the ability to increase the confidence and libido of the village fool. Many a man had made a fool of himself that way, and in that cantina, fools were abundant.

Lousy travelers here to have a good time, get drunk, get laid, and nothing else.

You couldn’t afford any of that. You could barely afford to keep your shop running.

You arrived at the entrance of your hangar with a loaded sight. Crossing your arms, you surveyed the workshop you called your own for nearly a decade now. You found yourself at your workbench more often than not, spending your evenings stripping old machines or droids for parts just to trade them for different ones from a mechanic struggling just as much as you were. This evening was no different.

You wanted an out.

You’d lived your entire life on Tatooine, but you’d spent the last eight years saving up to leave it. Being a mechanic was traditionally rather lucrative, but living in a galaxy ravaged by the recent fall of the Empire left whatever economy there was to crumble, leaving you with reluctant and few customers and a city thriving less by the day.

There was no money to go around, no money to get you out of here.

You huffed indignantly to no one in particular when the telltale sound of a ship landing in your hangar shook you from your thoughts. Standing, you brushed the dust from your trousers, testing the strap of your goggles and lifting it up over your hair and off your eyes.

This ship was impressive, you admitted. And familiar. As you walked down from the inside of your shop, you watched as the hatch opened, and an intriguing looking Mandalorian sauntered out into the open. You knew the Razor Crest was dated, but the wear on it made it look significantly worse. The wear on the bounty hunter to which it belonged somehow seemed to emphasize that, the shininess of the metal holding far less damage than the last time you’d seen it. You felt a little guilty for it, but you wondered if him wearing that much new beskar meant he had enough money for you to charge a little extra.

You stood a short distance from him and crossed your arms. There was a moment of silence, and you raised your brows in expectation.

The Mandalorian reached for his belt, and in a moment of instinct, you found yourself reaching for your blaster.

“You want money to fix my ship, or a fight?”

Though filtered through his helmet, Mando’s voice immediately caught your full attention, just as it did the first couple times you had met him. It was smooth, yet husky at the same time. Deep, yet handsome and almost boyish.

You swallowed, and your hand fell from your holster, but you didn’t apologize.

He waited a moment, watching you. He then reached for what you assumed to be a pouch of credits on his belt. The bag felt heavy enough in your hands when he placed it in them, but only appeared to be enough to cover the cost of what looked like basic repairs.

“Will that cover me this time around?”

You opened your mouth to speak when a loud crash erupted from behind the bounty hunter. Your eyes widened as he spun quickly, pushing the two of you back in a defensive manner. A piece of the hangar had broken off, landing violently with a shower of sparks.

You pursed your lips as he ran back into his ship without another word.

Interesting.

You examined the outside of the ship for only a moment when he then reemerged, carrying what looked unmistakably like –

“Is that a _baby_?”

“So you can speak again.”

In truth, you barely knew the man, and his words were typically nothing less than sarcastic or monotonous. Despite this, for some reason, you wished to hear him speak all evening. You felt your face flush, partially out of your own thoughts and secondly due to his remark, and you lowered your brow in offense.

“Yes.” The Mandalorian had answered you, seemingly detecting your lack of amusement. He seemed off-put, as if he were typically the one short of words. He seemed like the type, from what you remembered.

Examining the child, you noted how very much not human it was. Wrinkled green skin looked soft and indeed baby-like, big ears and even bigger eyes watching you curiously. It was quiet for a moment before erupting into an excited babble, little teeth shining in joy. This child was clearly not produced in any way by the Mandalorian, and that much was obvious. His little three-fingered hands grabbed towards you, and the Mandalorian’s shoulders raised in what could have been suspicion or shock. He made a soft grunt that barely broke the static of his helmet before extending the child towards you.

Your eyes widened once more, but you lifted the baby in your arms, silently reveling in how the little thing squealed at the attention. You couldn’t hide the smile that graced your lips as you bounced him a few times in your arms.

“He likes you.”

That rugged voice broke your thoughts once more, sounding nearly in awe. Or, as much as you can sound in awe with such a monotone statement. You spared a look towards the bounty hunter, back at his ship, and at the gibbering child in your arms.

You sighed.

“This can cover basic repairs. External damage – no tune-ups.” You said, flatly.

He shook his head, as if emerging from his own thoughts. Whether he was looking at your or his child, you couldn’t discern.

“I can get you more.” He said. “I can’t afford to stop again soon.”

You bit your bottom lip, resting the baby against your side. He was a heavy thing for such a small size. The visor in the helmet locked in on your face, and you were now certain he was examining you alone. You adjusted your bare arms over the babbling child, absently wishing that you had fully donned your jumpsuit instead of tying the top around your waist, halfway clad if not for the black tank top you wore.

You tilted your head in though, pretending to mull over an answer you already had decided upon. In all honesty, you planned on doing a full diagnostics check, anyway. You nodded.

The Mandalorian didn’t speak for another moment.

“What is your name? I have come here before, and yet you never tell me.”

“You never ask.”

Why your pulse decided to increase in that moment, you couldn’t say. In truth, you never typically tell clients your name. On one hand, it could be a practice good for business if they were to recommend you. But in a dangerous galaxy, you preferred to keep your head below the radar, even if that meant avoiding a job or two.

But this man returned, for what was at least a third time. He cocked his helmet, and you sighed. You told the bounty hunter your name, and he nodded, as if turning it about in his head.

The child yawned in your arms, eyelids falling shut as he fought his urge to sleep. Again you felt your lips curl into a soft smile. The Mandalorian took the child from you gently, almost more gentle that you believed he was capable, and brought him back aboard the ship and into a small nook, where he assured you that he would stay asleep for the night.

With that, the Mandalorian (for which you now realized you had no name for) armed himself and marched into town to find your remaining payment.

You sighed heavily staring at the devastated ship. This repair would likely take the rest of the evening and almost all of tomorrow, and required parts you weren’t even sure you had.

You strapped the goggles back over your eyes.

* * * * * * * * * 

That night had passed quickly, and although you had found restless sleep and a cold shower that morning, you found yourself nearly exhausted. You found breaks resting and playing with the Child, who had slept peacefully through the night, as promised. But the hours ticked by nonetheless, the sun setting and repairs still remaining. The baby was asleep for what you’d hoped would be the day, but somehow knew better. He would wake and wish to play at least once more before the night was over.

Throughout the day, you were tormented by thoughts of the bounty hunter you couldn’t seem to get rid of – not that you were trying to in the least bit, you admitted. He was a man of few words, his speech almost exclusively brief and concise. Yet his voice taunted you, and you found yourself wondering what his tone would sound like decorating different words, softer or perhaps even something more sultry. He was taller than you, enough to loom over your head intimidatingly, and yet his presence was so much more impactful than his stature. Enough to make you feel small, or submissive, even. You were certain that years of bounty hunting and training would leave anyone fit, and as your mind wandered, you allowed yourself the pleasure of imagining what could be tan skin, tight and smooth over muscle and littered with scars from battles won. Sometimes, you would think about doing unspeakable things with him. You had a birth control implant, for safety purposes with past relationships. Connecting the two thoughts made you blush, and you shook your head as if it would clear your mind.

You barely knew him, and yet your mind would not leave him. Who he was, what he looked like, the details of his own life and past, where his travels would take him – where _you_ could fit into all of it.

It was silly, you thought, day-dreaming of a man who barely knew who you were. And yet here you were, fixing his ship so that he could leave you and likely never return again.

The sun was setting again when you had completed all external repairs. You were currently inside the ship, fixing wiring issues you were sure could be finished within the next few minutes.

This is why you had shoved yourself halfway into a small opening in the ship, the panel pulled aside and at your feet with your headlamp illuminating the crevice. Why the wiring was so far into the ship wall, you didn’t understand, and didn’t have the energy to question. You were simply relieved that you were small enough to fit into the opening.

That was, until you couldn’t get out.

You had just believed you had fixed what was causing delays in the steering controls, set on testing them to confirm a job well done. When you attempted to remove yourself from the wall and head for the cockpit, you found yourself incapable, the belt around your waist anchoring you to the wall and unable to push backwards.

You cursed and spat enough words to make a mercenary blush, kicking at the wall for what was at least a few embarrassing moments before stopping to catch your breath.

This evening couldn’t get any worse.

“You’re supposed to fix my ship, not dent it.”

You wish you hadn’t screamed in reply, but there was no mistake in the yelp of surprise that left your throat and echoed through the small hole your upper body was trapped in.

It could get worse, apparently. And it did.

“I’m _stuck_.” You bit out, preferring to skip the banter and get straight to the point.

“I know.”

You couldn’t hide the scoff that his coy response pulled from your throat.

“Are you going to help me?”

He was silent, and for a fearful moment, you were afraid he had walked off. You heard his voice, this time closer than before. You swallowed in a mix of confusion and something else, something darker.

“Don’t know yet.”

You let out a shaky breath, and shuffling on your feet momentarily as if that would loosen the ship’s hold on your waist. It didn’t.

Considering your options, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. You worked alone with no assistants, not even a droid after you had to sell your last one for food. You were orphaned at a young age and hadn’t lived with anyone for the past six years. No one came to visit you, and no other customers would be coming in to see you if already had a ship in your shop.

That led your mind to the final question: _What did this man want, anyway?_

You sighed. “What is it that you want? If I make your fee any lower, I won’t be making any money off my service.”

“Your service, huh?”

You could see his boots dangerously close to your own from the corner of your peripheral, and you swallowed hard. Even from inside your temporary cage, you could smell blaster residue, leather, and the slightest hint of –

“Are you drunk, Mandalorian?” You asked, accusation sharper than a knife in your tone. You could smell booze on him as he inched impossibly closer, something sweet and hardly detectable. _God damn tourist, just like the rest of them_ , you sneered to yourself.

There was silence, but you could nearly hear the gears turning in his head.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

You scoffed. “Well this isn’t the best time.”

“It’s clearly not the worst time.”

Another incredibly unhelpful comment mixed your emotions up into a cocktail of humiliation and frustration. He was hardly one for words or idle conversation, and you wondered what possessed him to get drunk in the first place.

_What’s that supposed to mean?_ “What do you want?”

“To talk.” He repeated.

You could almost feel the chill of beskar on the backs of your thighs and wondered just how close he planned on getting to you.

“Then talk.”

You heard a grunt in irritation, but felt nothing other than the vibration of shifting feet on the metal floor beneath you.

“You are a good mechanic.” His voice was slow and careful. Not drunk, perhaps buzzed. But for what reason, you wondered. _How reckless for a bounty hunter_ , you thought to yourself. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “You are trustworthy and I… do not mind your company.” He continued, drawling ever so slightly. He lacked the conciseness in his usual tone, you noted. “And I can pay handsomely for someone of your skill. With the ship,” he paused, “And with the child.”

You turned his offer over in your mind, intrigued and very tempted to take it immediately, before once again recognizing the situation you were currently in.

“That’s a very kind offer, and I would be much obliged to discuss.” You said, feigning politeness in favor of the impatience about to boil over. “But are you of sound mind to be making this offer? I don’t doubt your judgement, but perhaps you had too much to drink."

“You are also very beautiful.”

You froze, your mouth as immobile as your brain. Sirens went off in your brain, and you were unsure that this was the same Mandalorian who had dropped his ship off earlier.

“I was uncertain that I would ever return to Tatooine. So I came back to ask you this, specifically.” You could hear the Mandalorian swallow audibly underneath his helmet. “I wanted to request this of you at our first meeting. And the second.” He admitted. “I wanted to ensure that I wasn’t… emotionally compromised. Or too reserved. I find it difficult to speak to you.”

“Well you’re definitely compromised now, if you don’t mind my saying. But I might have you beat.”

He laughed, and while you were still pissed off by his inaction, it might have been the sweetest thing you’ve heard in a long time.

“I suppose I might be.”

You wondered what you looked like right about now, your hips lodged into an opening in the wall where you’d removed the panel, standing precariously on your tip toes with your waist hoisted into the air. You wondered what the Mandalorian was doing, his heavy boots in between yours, his hips dangerously close to your own. He could likely be looking down at you, hands hovering right above, not daring to touch but threatening all the same. You wondered sinfully if he appreciated the view.

You would shake your head to rid yourself of such thoughts if you could, but the flush was undeniable.

Even you were smart enough to know that you cannot be in love with a man you have only met three times and have never seen the face of, much less a man who is a bounty hunter. You are not the kind of person who rests about the cantina looking for a mercenary to spend the night with, whether for money or for the thrill. You had nothing against that lifestyle, no, but it was not for you all the same. Besides, this Mandalorian didn’t seem the type to go to a bar and –

You blanched.

“Mandalorian,” you called, “What exactly was it that you drank?”

He huffed, tapping his foot twice but not laying a hand on you yet.

“… Tasted like fruit. I haven’t seen it on any other planet. It was suggested to me by a female patron at the cantina.”

“And was she making advances on you?” You were met by silence. “What color? Did it glow?”

“Why am I feeling like you’re about to tell me something I don’t want to hear?” He replied, more of a groan than a statement. It was more emotionally charged than anything you’ve heard him say before, and the tedious ‘will-he-won’t-he’ that his close proximity wrought upon your already preoccupied mind multiplied.

You laughed at him, and while he didn’t appreciate the seeming lack of concern, he admitted to himself that it was the sweetest noise he had heard in a long time.

“I’m going to get you out of there, now.”

Two hands clad in thick leather gloves grasped gently at your waist, and you were glad for a moment that your face was not visible. As his grip tightened in preparation to free you from your entrapment, a bubbling cry emerged from somewhere nearby.

And you felt the Mandalorian’s hips meet yours in a rather clumsy and sudden manner.

“H-Hey, no! Bad!” The Mandalorian was shouting, his voice no longer directed at you despite your yelp of shock. “That’s bad! Stop that right now!”

In a sudden rush of weightlessness, the bounty hunter’s body flew back, followed by yours. The two of you tumbled onto the floor of the ship, heavy clanging noises contrasting sharply with the amused giggling of the little green child which sat innocently on the floor nearby.

It was nighttime, and even the inside of the ship was dark. You were grateful for the lack of light just as the Mandalorian was especially grateful for his helmet.

“I am… very sorry.” The bounty hunter was standing before you realized he had risen, extending a hand out to you. His fingers were twitching visibly even in the low light. “He has powers that I cannot easily explain.” He helped you to stand, turning his head sharply to the yawning child as if to reprimand him. His hand retracted like yours was on fire. “And while he will sometimes aid in combat, I feel he doesn’t yet know the difference between that and… other things. He is just a baby, despite his abilities.”

The onslaught of words did little to ease the rush of blood to your face. His gaze failed to meet yours.

“It’s… alright.” You crossed your arms, approaching the child and lifting him into your arms as he dozed off. While you were at least certain it was an accident, the contact left you shaken. Never had you been that close in _that region_ to another person before, especially not with this mysterious, dangerous, absolutely _packing –_

The blush you wore could have produced steam if it were any cooler in the ship.

“I would like to hear more about this offer.” You admitted, rocking the baby back and forth while approaching his sleeping nook. “However, the more pressing matter is that you have few options with your current situation."

The Mandalorian followed you, swallowing hard in an effort to calm his racing pulse. He wasn’t used to feeling lost or led blindly. He was sure he disliked it, but the excessive adrenaline pumping through his body and the undeniable rush of blood to the south spoke to a different opinion.

“Depending on how much you drank, you may be able to sleep it off.” You kept your voice steady, or as much as you could considering the daunting aura of the bounty hunter behind you, whose gaze was locked onto you like a loaded gun to a target.

“How much is a lot?” His voice was quiet.

“Just about what you had, by the looks of you.”

“A tankard.” He admitted, sweating underneath his armor for more reason that one. A small inn hosted the bounty hunter for the midnight hours and slow morning after completing a task for the barkeep in addition to his payment, a menial asset for a menial bounty. He took advantage of this to eat and drink in a futile effort to calm his already mounting anxiety. Even the cool water and dry air of a cold shower and an empty room did not subdue his nerves in light of his inquiry for you.

You sucked in a breath of air, making a high-pitched noise in your throat in consideration. It could have been worse. You silently wished it was, quelling your sinful thoughts with a hard swallow. Maybe next time. You lowered the baby onto a pile of blankets. The noise brought the Mandalorian crashing back to reality.

“In that case, you can handle can attempt to handle it yourself,” you tucked the child in, “Which could prove futile if not take a couple of hours.” You shut off the lights in the small room, closing the door with the push of a button on the adjacent panel. “Or you could find company to, ah…” You did not look at him directly. Smoothing out your jumpsuit, still tied haphazardly around your waist, you cleared your throat. “To alleviate your distress.”

There was a beat of silence, and the Mandalorian took a bold step closer to you.

“And where do you suggest I should find this company?” He breathed, deep and suggestive. His assertiveness surprised even himself, but the thrumming of his heart underneath his skin silenced his concerns.

“I would assume you had already decided.” _Where is this coming from?_ You wondered, knowing the answer in truth, but somehow still remaining surprised at your own willingness. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

He was on your in an instant, grasping your wrist with bruising force and leading to impatiently to another room aboard the ship. His hand slammed a button on the wall with enough force to startle you even in your profound and sinful thoughts, the door of the Razor Crest shutting with a loud hiss that failed to muffle both of your inelegant and hurried footsteps.

The Mandalorian’s quarters were small and clearly made for one out and for necessity. That didn’t stop him from pushing you down against the small cot, tossing his gloves somewhere unimportant and simply _feeling_ you with the sense of urgency of a dying man. Your face was buried into his sheets as you fell into them, the warm scent of soap and his own musk surrounding your senses, rendering you wordless. His fingers were like fire on your skin as he untangled you from your jumpsuit, leaving it discarded across the room as he quickly worked you out of your shorts. There was a sudden moment where his hands left your body and a frown made its way onto your lips, only to twist into an expression of pleasure when the undoing of his trousers allowed his length to press against your bare ass.

“You’re already so wet…” His statement came out as a groan, heady and almost as desperate as you were becoming. “You want me that bad?”

You ground back against him, and he rewarded you with a hiss of air through his helmet and the softest growling of your name.

“Please.” Your voice came out as a whimper, and you thought of nothing more than him being inside of you. It was shameful, really – no foreplay, no preparation, no contraceptive. Simply the haunting thoughts of _him_ and a singular incidence of his unfiltered interest in combination with an awkward physical encounter and now this.

Your bodies both felt like they were on fire, and you wondered if his aphrodisiac-induced disposition was somehow contagious.

The Mandalorian was grinding his dick against your wetness and if your mind wasn’t already blank, it was at that moment. He was cussing between his teeth and by the Maker if you weren’t doing the same.

“ _Please,_ ” you emphasized, hips jutting backwards and into him. “I need you inside of me _now._ ”

With that, he wasted no time lining himself up to your cunt, fingers tight around your hips as he thrust the tip of his cock into you with forced restraint. You caught your lower lip between your teeth, far from a virgin but not accustomed to such girth, regardless. A potential desire for further preparation almost made its way out of your throat when he pulled back ever so slightly, thrusting himself back into you almost immediately and drawing a strangled moan from your mouth.

“You’re so… tight…” He simply growled, his grip bruising. The next thrust found him fully seated inside of you, the tight and nearly overwhelming burn overpowered by the immediate and absolutely filthy feeling of fullness and desperation to be fucked by the Mandalorian.

While you could tell he was absolutely rearing to go, no doubt a product of not only his personal desires but of the powerful drink coursing through him, you were deeply grateful for his patience. You felt his hands skate across your lower back, sliding down your ass and thighs before grabbing appreciatively at the soft flesh there. An impossibly long moment seemed to pass before your shaky sigh filled the room.

“Move, please.” You heard yourself say, his hips drawing back efficiently yet mindfully before the words even left your mouth.

The Mandalorian was big, and you could not deny this. You could feel his member drag against your inner walls, the traction smooth and almost overstimulating against your slickness, deep and almost primal as his thrusts grew more urgent. With every snap of his hips against your own, he knocked heavy breaths and whines out of your throat. Your fingers grasped his blankets as your back arched into him.

“You’re fucking _dripping_ for me, baby.” He drawled, voice dense with lust and clearly too lost in the moment to maintain his stony and formal demeanor, obvious even through the modulated filter of his helmet. You loved it. “I could have fucked you out in the front of the ship and you probably could have taken me just as well, couldn’t you?”

You bit back a moan, the pitch of your voice hitching as he drew a hand back to squeeze at your ass with punishing force. You liked it rough, at least in this moment, which was obvious to him by this point.

“I’ve thought about this before, you know. Thought about being inside of you like this. I wondered what you would feel like around me, what sounds you would make.” His pace wasn’t rushed or urgent, but each thrust snapped into you deep enough to shock you each time. “I wondered if you touched yourself thinking about me.” You did.

“Y-You’re a – ah!” A particularly sharp thrust had you almost tearing the blankets below you. “A talker… When you’re drunk.” You bit out with a shaky voice, head turned with your cheek pressed against the cot to watch him from the corner of your vision. He didn’t slow. “Don’t stop. It’s hot.”

He only graced your statement with a breathy chuckle, his pace increasing just enough to momentarily jar you.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

The question took a moment to register, and you let out a bubbly laugh between your moans. “Are you sure this is the right time to t-talk about _this_?” Your words were punctuated with gasps, but the question was sincere.

“Figured you would have decided by now.” The bounty hunter’s voice was far from even, but his statement was candid, at the very least. “I can show you a _lot_ of things.” Your moan was unrestrained as his hand slid up your back and over your tank top, fingers sliding up your scalp and tangling in your hair. His grip was firm and pace unrelenting as his leaned over your back, cold beskar contrasting sharply with his hot breath on your ear when he pulled your head back towards him. “And I could use you in more ways than one.” The statement had you gushing, and you found yourself dangerously close to the edge.

“Mando...” You moaned, baring your neck to him only to feel the biting chill of the bottom of his helmet brush against it.

“Din.”

“Wh-What?” Your brow furrowed, and you spared a confused glance his way.

“My name… My name is Din.” He simply said, voice trembling with his own failing restraint. “I want you to moan my name when you cum on my dick.”

The vulgarity of his words and his punishing grip on your waist pushed you right over that edge, and he found himself pleased with the positively strangled cry of his name when your climax washed over you.

You were shocked when he simply flipped you onto your back, pushing into you once more only to hold himself there instead of chasing his own release. Your legs found their place around his waist as he kneeled into the bed and your hands found his helmet before he seized your wrists in a firm, yet careful manner.

“No.” He simply said. His hands were warm, intertwining with yours for an instant before squeezing and releasing them.

“I want to kiss you.” You explained, your hands falling to his chest as you panted softly.

“I can’t.” The Mandalorian’s voice was strained, tinged with a frustrated mixture of impatience and disappointment. You could feel his pulse underneath his skin. His hands tapped against your knee anxiously. “No living thing has seen me since I was a child.” He paused. “This is the Way.”

You frowned, the both of you incredibly eager despite your roadblock. You shifted slightly on the bed, feeling overstimulated but hyperaware of how painfully hard and large and _throbbing_ he was inside of you and you both moaned in response. Your thoughts wandered to only moments ago, feeling his hips grind against your waist, even with your torso still being lodged in –

_That’s it_ , you thought.

“Then I won’t _see_ you.” You gasped. You gestured towards your discarded jumpsuit, and Din leaned down to fish through the inner pockets before producing a red handkerchief.

The bounty hunter stared at the fabric for a long moment, and you swear you could hear the calculations firing off in his mind. A second later, he pulled out, leaving you aching and empty, before coaxing you up onto your elbows and tying the fabric around your eyes. Before you could adjust to your new blindness, the harsh sound of beskar and heavy fabric hitting the ground resounded in the cramped space of the cabin, followed by the creaking of his bed as he kneeled back down on it. The speed of his actions would have made you laugh, had he not immediately reentered you and restarted his utterly demanding pace.

You felt his lips on your neck and swore to whatever gods there may be that you almost died and went to heaven in that instant. Din’s tongue traced up the length of your neck, leaving bruising bites and hickies in his wake. Impatient with his teasing, your hands clumsily found his shoulders, making your way quickly to his face before grasping his jaw and pressing your lips together with passion that shocked even yourself. You felt him hike up your legs over his arms, reveling in the peak of his biceps on your thighs before he fucked into you deeper than what you thought was even possible. You moaned loudly into the kiss, feeling the way his lips curled into a smirk as the connection of your mouths swallowed the noise.

Din pulled back, the two of you gasping for air as his thrusts became wild and uneven.

“I-I’m surprised that you’ve last-lasted this long!” You joked, breathless and feeling that same heat coil in your lower stomach once more.

He chuckled at this and you wished you could see his face. You wondered what color his eyes were, and if they crinkled when he laughed.

“I h-have…” He choked out, “Good self-restraint.”

It was your turn to laugh.

“Ha! I can’t w-wait to test that when I – oh, fuck!” Your back arched into the bed and he grasped underneath your top at your breasts as he sucked another bruise behind your ear. “Wh-When I join you!”

“So you’re c-coming?” He asked. You wondered how he even managed the question when the both of you seemed to only be hanging by a thread.

“Tell you… Tell you what,” you breathed, “C-Come inside of me, and I’ll l-let you know.”

He groaned loudly, and you could tell that whatever self-restraint he had was washed away. Din’s hips stuttered, and your name tumbled out of his lips as he came deep inside of you, painfully powerful thrusts forcing his seed impossibly deeper into your body. The feeling of his hot release inside of you managed to wring out another bout of pleasure with a dangerously loud moan, and even if you weren’t blindfolded, you were sure you would have seen all black, regardless.

His head was resting against your chest as you basked in the high of your collective orgasms, and your shaky fingers raked gently through his hair. It was softer than you imagined it would be, loose curls sliding through your hands as your breathing slowed.

When Din finally pulled out, you felt a rush of wetness between your thighs, and you almost wanted him to hurry up and put his helmet back on to satisfy your odd desire to see just how much was leaking out of you. He made a soft noise of questioning before you pointed reassuringly at the slightest bump on your arm where your birth control implement was located. He sighed, seemingly understanding and sounding relieved, and your heart was warmed by his thoughtful display of concern.

You felt him sit up and extend towards the floor before you reached out clumsily. Your hand landed on his chest, feeling taut skin and the slightest bit of hair. You grinned.

“Leave it. I’d rather feel you for a while longer.”

His lips were back on yours, and you smiled. You felt him smile back.

“You still owe me for these repairs, though.” You kissed him again.

You felt his smirk disappear for only a moment before his body was pinning yours against the bed once more, and you didn’t try to hold back your own laughter.

“Can I convince you otherwise?” He asked. “Service in exchange for service?”

You could worry about packing your things and collecting his payment in the morning, you supposed. Or perhaps you could change your rates, just this once. A Mandalorian discount. You’d make some more money simply selling the spare parts, equipment, and space that you would no longer need when you left Tatooine for good.

_For good, huh?_ You thought, your swollen lips daring to curl into a smile.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

“I don’t know about that one, Din.” You jested. “I may be joining your crew, but I’ve got to make a living somehow. Can’t go around fixing ships for free, now.”

“So I should have just left you in the ship wall and flown off, huh?”

“That’s called kidnapping, so no.”

He chuckled. “Then it looks like I’ll just have to barter.”

You smiled and raised a brow. His lips muffled your thoughts just as they muffled your moans.

_A Mandalorian discount, then_ , you thought. _Just this once_.


End file.
